Meraki
by neuroticmango
Summary: Nine years pass since the last time Spencer spoke with the Captain, and now he's asking for the BAU's help in catching an unsub that refuses to be caught. Can their friendship resume where it once was, or is nine years too long a gap? Leans very heavily on the CM universe, though Toshiko does make an appearance.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a sequel to my previous work entitled _Gemütlich_. Some references will make more sense if you read that before reading this. This story is set around Season 2 of Criminal Minds and somewhere during Season 1 of Torchwood.

* * *

When a mysterious man from an equally mysterious organization appears in your office wearing a World War Two greatcoat, you know today will not be an ordinary day.

Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief of the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the Federal Bureau of Investigation regarded the man before him very carefully. The case proposed to him certainly merited involvement of the BAU, but there were certain constraints that disallowed any possible involvement. Hotch was in deep thought searching for the right words to say to explain the situation without causing any undue offence; he resisted the urge to show weakness and rub his growing migraine.

"As you can see, Agent Hotchner," said the Captain, "thirteen children have gone missing these past three weeks. The latest victim, Steven Carter, was last seen in his primary school two days ago and the local police have exhausted all possible avenues of investigation."

The Captain spoke with an American accent, though it carried a certain lilt that indicated he was not a US citizen. Laugh lines around the eyes and mouth indicated that his aloof countenance was simply a façade – either because this was a business meeting or because the man was hiding something, Aaron was unsure. He leaned back on his chair and considered his next few words.

"While we are flattered you have come all this way, Captain Harkness," he began, "I'm afraid my team and I cannot accept this case." He adopted an apologetic air as he closed the file shut. "The BAU is an FBI division, and the FBI in turn is exclusive to the United States. To accept your case is to step beyond our jurisdiction, and to take this on would mean repercussions I am not willing to subject my team to. They are my first priority above all else."

The Captain's neutral expression hardened. "I'm not asking for you and your team to take the next flight out over the Atlantic, Agent Hotchner," he said slowly, if not a tad menacingly. "This is merely a consultation and I," his lips curled into a thin smile, eyes remained cold, "the liaison."

As the two alpha males observed each other, the only sound in the office was the steady ticking of a generic wall clock. Hotch was not threatened by the Captain, not in the least, but there was something about the man that intrigued the FBI agent. The Captain was far too persistent for the case to not be personal.

"If you are still undecided," said the Captain, "I believe this can convince you." He reached down for his briefcase and balanced it on his knees. As the lid was lifted, he reached in and took out a taupe coloured folder.

Hotch's eyebrows rose upon seeing the presidential seal. It seems the decision was just taken out of his hands.

"I have connections," the Captain said by way of explanation, "and my connections assure me that you are the best of the best."

Aaron studied the document handed to him with resignation. "All right, Captain Harkness, it seems –"

"Please," the Captain interrupted, "call me Jack."

{break}

"We've got ourselves a new case," Hotch said as his team filed into the conference room.

"A new case?" asked JJ as Hotch handed her the case file. "How come I haven't heard of this?"

"The matter was initially brought to Strauss's attention, but was then immediately given to me," he explained. "It's a sensitive case involving several kidnappings. Before we can move on to discussing the particulars of this case, let me first make clear that this is a very special assignment."

"More special than usual, you mean," clarified Morgan. "Let's face it: we take on the cases no one knows how to handle."

"Hotch," JJ looked up, finishing her first read through. "This is not within our jurisdiction. I understand this is just a consult case, but last time I checked, Wales is not an American state."

Hotch's lips thinned to a grim line. "It is when the President's office says it is," he said, tossing the official document on the table. There was a slight commotion as JJ, Morgan, and Prentiss rushed to read over the file, but it was Reid who managed to reach through the tangle of arms and slip the folder into his grasp.

"Well," demanded Morgan, "don't let us all die from old age, Pretty Boy. What does it say? Why have we been handed a case from _Wales_ of all places?"

"It's nothing but a carefully formulated writ ensuring we cannot refuse this consultation," Spencer said. "JJ, may I…?" He gestured to the case file in the woman's hands.

"No, let me scan this so that everyone can have their own copy," she said with a small apologetic smile. "I'll be back as soon as I can." She slipped back into the room several minutes later while Hotch was giving everyone a rundown on the case.

"I understand this is very unorthodox," he said, "but this team is one of, if not the best the FBI has to offer. We have been chosen for this assignment, the President has sanctioned our involvement and, furthermore, a representative is already here to liaise between our team and the LEOs first assigned to the case. Remember: this is just a consult."

"Well, when you say it like that, Hotch," Prentiss said slowly, choosing her words, "I don't see why we can't work on this. Morgan, Reid?"

Morgan deliberated over what was said. "Okay," he said eventually. "I just don't want to step in anybody's toes. It's stressful enough dealing with the local cops here…" He drifted off, the picture already painted in everyone's minds.

Once everyone accepted the new case, they began brainstorming ideas in earnest, exchanging theories and sharing as much information as they could with each other. It was a daunting task, considering the slight alteration of law enforcement dynamics and cultural behaviour that a case from a completely different country presented. Although, Hotch _was_ right: this BAU team was good at what they do.

"Reid, this may be a long shot but do you have any information about Wales, particularly the area where the victims seem to have disappeared from," asked Hotch. "I think the more we know about the situation, the better we'll be able to understand the unsub."

Spencer sat straighter in his seat. His knowledge about the small country between Ireland and England was not as exhaustive as he would have liked. He certainly did not know any pertaining statistics from that area, nor has he ever been briefed about their police's investigative process. Nevertheless, he may have read a brochure or two about the United Kingdom.

"From what I understand," he began, "Wales comprises a total area of only 8,022 square miles. It is part of the United Kingdom and, constitutionally, Wales is represented by 40 out of 650 MPs – short for Members of Parliament – in the Westminster. Nonetheless, the country retains a strong cultural identity: officially, the country and its people are bilingual, speaking both English and Welsh. It has four regional police forces. From what I can gather from this file, the thirteen victims belong to the authority of the South Wales Police, having either lived in the Cardiff area or having been last seen there. I assume this representative is either part of this force? Cardiff, meanwhile, is the capital city and has an estimated population of –"

A sigh from the doorway interrupted Spencer's train of thought. He was aware that the bare facts of an obscure country 3,500 odd miles away from America was not the most interesting of discourses, but – wait, that sigh. That was not a derisive groan or an exhalation of boredom. If anything, it was an outbreath of appreciation.

"Spencer Reid," the unnamed yet worryingly familiar stranger declared, caressing his name with ease and affection. "Light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul."

Prentiss and JJ's eyes widened. Morgan's jaw dropped in shock, and Hotch _blinked_. Understandably, Spencer was frozen in shock. He was certain it was not Gideon, the only team member currently not in the conference room because he was with the Welsh liaison and that means…. Spencer's head went into overdrive. It's not every day someone casually professes such ardent passion for one Spencer Reid, boy genius extraordinaire. In the given set of data that is his past life experiences, this particular event was an outlier because Spencer knew better. _It can't be him_, he thought wildly, though logic and that memorable vocal tenor told him otherwise. He knew this man.

Spencer cleared his throat and assumed a nonchalant air. "You're quoting from _Lolita_, a novel by Russian native Vladimir Nabokov. First published in Paris 1955, and then in New York three years later, the work is made infamous by its controversial subject matter. The main character is a hebephile by the name of Humbert Humbert who has an obsession with his stepdaughter."

Spencer regarded the case file before him with intense ambivalence as an attempt to not accidentally meet anyone's bewildered stare as he rambled. He did not want to be hooked and lose this impulsive surge of confidence. This moment was given to him on a silver platter and by jove he was seizing it. He snapped the case file closed and looked at the general direction of the doorway and _carpe diem_ indeed.

There stood just beyond the threshold, leaning against the door jamb with a lazily smug smile tugging at his lips, was his old friend from his college days. Vaguely, Spencer registered Gideon standing a little ways into the room with an equally baffled look as the others.

"Furthermore, I would like to put on record that I resent your implication," Spencer admonished with a slight hint of tease in his inflection. "I am _not_ a twelve year old girl on the cusp of discovering her innate sexuality." He gave a wicked grin. He had enjoyed himself far too much. Far, far too much. "And that's _Doctor_ Spencer Reid to you, Captain Jack Harkness."

The man in question barked a laugh, unmistakeably impressed. He pushed off the doorway and sedately entered the room proper. "I see that Mathematics degree did you some good, _Dr_ Reid."

"And you're still as self-assured as you used to be, Captain," Spencer noted. "I take it you're the Welsh government representative for this case?"

The Captain did not take the empty seat beside Spencer, nor any of the others around the conference table. He instead positioned himself behind Spencer's chair, one arm leaning on the back of the seat as he flipped open the case file and studied its contents. His actions confused Spencer; if the Captain indeed was the government representative, he ought to know everything there is to know about these kidnappings.

"Reid," Hotch called, gaining Spencer's attention. "You know Captain Harkness?"

"Please," the Captain said absently, still not looking up from his reading, "call me Jack."

Spencer, as usual, refused his friend's offer. "I first met the Captain the summer before my first year at CalTech," he explained to his team. "I was reading some books in a park and, coincidentally, Nabokov's _Lolita_ was on top of that pile which explains the reference. We became fast friends. I didn't know you were stationed in Wales, though, Captain."

"You know what my job can be like, Spencer," the Captain said softly. Spencer pressed his lips together in an attempt to not say_ no, I didn't really know what your job fully entailed_ and simply looked at his friend. He saw the sadness in his eyes, and Spencer's heart broke just a little. "You can say I was promoted some years ago. I have my own team now, much like your own. In fact," the Captain straightened up to his full height, "I should really be setting up a communications link to them."

"I can call Garcia," offered JJ. "She's out technical analyst… brilliant with all things computer."

The Captain shook his head. "That's not necessary. All I need is a computer and a satellite connection. My team operates beyond flimsy Internet networks."

JJ acknowledged the Captain's reasoning and led him towards an available computer at the corner of the room. If she was taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanour, when compared to his behaviour towards Spencer, she did not know it. At the Captain's brisk "thank you", she knew that she was being dismissed and returned to her seat.

Gideon has, by now, taken the lead with a discussion on victimology. The team was in the midst of creating a victim profile to explain why the unsub has taken an interest in the thirteen missing children. There was no clear preference apart from the age range; nearly half the children were boys and the other girls, and the families of each child spanned the spectrum of the socioeconomic backgrounds.

"There must be a commonality between the thirteen children," Prentiss said forcefully. "Otherwise, what does the unsub want with them?"

"Most common kidnappings usually involve a family member," said Spencer. "An aunt wanting to remove her niece or nephew from what she perceives to be a neglecting mother, or an estranged father wanting to see his children, etc. But these children all come from different families, and their places of residences have no apparent connection either. I could create a geographical profile though I am doubtful on how helpful it can be."

"You get right on that, Reid," said Hotch. "Also, include the children's schools, areas of play, and perhaps the residences of extended family members. Perhaps you can find a commonality there."

"I can help with that," suggested the Captain, having finished setting up the link to his team. Spencer glanced at the computer screen behind the Captain and saw a woman with dark hair taking up the most of the frame. She was talking to someone on the phone.

"No, I believe you can be of much more help with Agent Morgan," countered Hotch. "Am I right to assume you've had first-hand experience of the where the children are last seen?"

The Captain nodded slowly. "You are right to assume that, yes, but there are enough crime scene pictures to get a detailed enough description."

"It's not enough. I need to put myself in the unsub's shoes," explained Morgan. "The pictures are extremely helpful, yes, but seeing as we cannot visit the places ourselves, we kind of have to utilize the next best thing. And that's you, Harkness. I need to know the layout of these places, what the weather was like when the kids disappeared, how many people were in the area and such like. The more we know, the more accurate we can make this profile of the unsub."

"I still need someone to confer with for the geographical profile," Spencer added. "I need more information than what is given in these files."

"I suppose Tosh can help you with that," said the Captain, gesturing to the computer. The woman on the screen, presumably upon hearing her name, glanced at the camera and gave a small smile. "She's my technical expert. My team and I won't be able to do half the things we do without her."

Spencer smiled. "Sounds like someone I know," he quipped, making Morgan and JJ laugh appreciatively.

"Toshiko Sato," the Captain called, "this is Dr Spencer Reid from the FBI Behavioural Analysis Unit." Spencer gathered his things and settled himself by the computer desk. "Spencer, this is Toshiko Sato."

"It's a pleasure to video conference with you, Dr Reid," greeted Toshiko as she pushed up her glasses.

Spencer distractedly mirrored her actions, pushing up his own eyeglasses, as he returned pleasantries. They conversed intensely for the next hour and a half, striking up a timid friendship from the exchange of information and the occasional chitchat. Toshiko, Spencer found, was a beast with a machine and it was wonderful working with her.

"You're not hacking into privately sealed records, are you?" Spencer asked jokingly while he constructed his profile.

Toshiko grinned impishly in reply. "I think it best you not know, Dr Reid."

"I'm no stranger to retrieving information through indubitable means," Spencer replied lightly. "My team's own technical analyst is brilliant with data retrieval and I never question the authenticity of her findings. Though I suppose," he paused, "we never do ask about her methods."

"A government employee implementing illegal methods," commented Toshiko. "There's irony there somewhere… I can't seem to find it."

Spencer laughed. "You say that like you're not doing the same thing right now."

"Technically I'm not, but only because I'm not part of the government." Toshiko frowned. "Didn't Jack tell you? He's typically the first to point that out." The grip on the bright yellow Sharpie loosened as Spencer met Toshiko's eyes, and she rushed to alleviate his confusion: "Jack heads the Cardiff branch of Torchwood. Lawfully speaking, we're outside the government and beyond the police. We have official access to government files; the police themselves are theoretically unaware that we can gain access, though unofficially they know that we can see into their servers." Toshiko shrugged. "It's a small city," she said by way of explanation.

"But he's authorized," argued Spencer. "The Captain's involvement with this case is sanctioned by law, otherwise the President's office will not have approved of the FBI's participation at all."

"Torchwood is a clandestine group acknowledged by the United Kingdom's current reigning monarch, yes. You can't get more authorized that that," assured Toshiko. "However, Torchwood happens to be the worst kept secret in Cardiff. We order pizzas using our top secret need-to-know-only name."

Spencer's brows furrowed and the corners of his lips were tugged down in a thoughtful frown. He was a certified genius yet Toshiko's explanation perplexed him. "I see," he eventually said, and returned to his geographical profile. He had a lot to think about.

* * *

A/N: Any thoughts? This work is unbeta'd so forgive the odd mistake that Word's spellchecker has missed.


	2. Chapter 2

Hours passed and the BAU team successfully formed a workable profile of the unsub kidnapping the children in Wales. The Captain immediately relayed the description to Toshiko, who in turn communicated it to what Spencer assumed were Torchwood's field agents – or, at the very least, Torchwood's liaison with the Cardiff police force. He tried not to think too much about it, understanding that if he did so, he may stumble upon something he did not want to know.

_Outside the government, beyond the police._ Okay.

His great intellect can be curse, sometimes. Solving puzzles and making sense of intrigues was his thing, but to know more about his friend's secret government agency in Wales was not something he wanted. Call it instinct, but Spencer preferred to remain as oblivious as his colleagues were on the matter.

"That's the fifth cup of coffee I've seen you make," commented the Captain as he approached Spencer. "What are you doing here all by your lonesome? I'd ask if there's something on your mind but, knowing you, there's always something running the cogs in that amazing head of yours."

Spencer stepped aside to give the Captain some room to make his own cup of coffee. As the man waited for the percolator, Spencer turned to lean on the counter and nursed his caffeinated sugar, much like he did nine years ago in a bar during a Super Bowl weekend. He had water on the rocks that the Captain thankfully exchanged for some light beer. It all seemed a lifetime ago, though Spencer liked to think he was still the same person then as he was now.

"I'm not a machine, you know," he said. "It may seem like I am sometimes, churning out answers to equations even a computer cannot fully figure out, but…"

"I never said you were one." The Captain met Spencer's eyes deliberately, searching for something. "I know it's only been a day and I can't very well make an informed assumption, but... Spencer, are you happy here?"

The man in question looked down and studied his coffee. "This isn't about my relationship with my team. I can't think of a place I'd rather be," he confessed. "I know my capabilities are a definite advantage to any team I ever decide to work with; my colleagues are aware of that. Working with the BAU utilizes my skills in such a way that I can be of help." He smiled as he said, "I put bad guys away. I can't ask for anything more than that."

The Captain remained unconvinced. "You've been given such a wonderful gift, Spencer, and you have an inquisitive mind. I can see you doing very well as a researcher. In fact, I can see you do anything you set your mind to."

"I see your point, but let's just I was inspired to do what I do now by someone I met in college. He became a very dear friend of mine, actually. He made me realize that I can do a lot with I've been given. Yes, I was handpicked by Gideon to join the BAU, but I've always wanted a career where I can directly make the world a better place. This friend, he made me believe that my existence wasn't a fluke; that I have a responsibility not just to myself, but to those I can help with what I am capable of doing."

The corners of the Captain's mouth twitched into a fond smile. "There's nothing wrong with being yourself," he agreed. "I'm glad to hear you say that."

"It took me while to wrap my head around the concept, but yes, I got there eventually."

"Make sure you thank your friend, then. For helping you come to this realization, I mean."

Spencer tilted his head to the side in mock thought. "How do you suppose I do that? I am very grateful for his influence."

The Captain smirked. "I might have an idea or two."

The kiss lasted for far longer that Spencer planned for, and was much gentler than what he expected from his overly sexualized friend. One of the Captain's hands was raised to cup one side of Spencer's face, his fingers dipping into his hair and delicately massaging his scalp. The exchange was chaste, yet it was enough to spur a light colouring on Spencer's cheeks.

"You kissed me back," the Captain remarked, surprised.

Spencer brought his coffee cup to his lips to hide his grin. The movement caused the Captain to remove his hand from face, and Spencer watched it fall from the corner of his eye. "Nine years is a long time to not hear from someone," he said simply, looking straight ahead into the oblivious bullpen. "I missed you."

The Captain crossed his arms and leaned on the counter, mimicking Spencer's stance. "I gathered as much," he said smugly, "but we've never kissed before so you certainly can't have missed _that_."

"I missed the opportunity," Spencer clarified, shrugging. "I was having an identity crisis the last time I saw you, and I was so infatuated with someone else I didn't comprehend that I had crush on you until you were gone."

The coffee maker beeped, signalling that it was done percolating. The Captain either chose to ignore it or just did not notice. "And what about now?" he asked.

"I'm afraid, Captain," Spencer pushed off the counter, "that a crush is just a crush. I'll be at my desk if you need me."

{break}

Spencer was once again going through consult files (this time for the United States and the United States only) when the Captain, balancing a mug of coffee in one hand and a stale donut in the other, positioned a wheeled chair beside his desk and declared: "Nine years is a long time to wait."

"It is," Spencer said inattentively, scanning the file in his hands, "though only subjectively. Three thousand, two hundred and eighty five days is indeed a long time to wait for, let's say, your meal to cook. It's not, however, too long for when you're weaning a _Loxodonta africana._ The average weaning age for an African bush elephant is forty eight to a hundred and eight months."

The Captain shot the younger man a look that suggested his patience was wearing slightly thin. Spencer, in turn, only sighed and murmured, "I know what you're thinking."

"Pray tell, what am I thinking, Spencer?" the Captain asked sarcastically.

Spencer chose to finish his read-through before speaking again: "You seem to be under the misconception that I spent the past decade of my life pining after some –" he paused, flushed pink, then cleared his throat, "pining after yours truly. That might be the case, but I did have far more important things to occupy my time with. I _studied._ I attended lectures. I received my degrees in Mathematics, Engineering, and Chemistry, and acquired BAs in Psychology and Sociology. I joined the FBI Academy, trained to become an agent, and finally became a member of the BAU. One could argue that in the past decade, I became a self-actualized individual. Abraham Maslow must be very proud of me," he finished dryly.

The Captain regarded Spencer carefully, his eyebrows knitting together in thoughtfulness. "And you're happy being here," he confirmed.

"I can't see myself doing anything else," Spencer answered honestly. He reclined on his chair and reached for his lukewarm cup of coffee. It didn't take much effort for a profiler to surmise that the Captain's insistence on his happiness stemmed from a much deeper level than regular friendship. "Tell me about your team, Captain," he requested softly. "Working with Toshiko was quite a pleasant experience. I wouldn't mind collaborating with her again."

The Captain, knowing when a subject is exhausted, threw his head back in a lazy chuckle. "She's an absolute gem," he admitted. "I don't know what my team would do without her. My team, there're five of us: Tosh, Gwen, Owen, Ianto and me. We're an odd bunch, but we work well together. There's this one time…"

Spencer listened attentively as the Captain recounted a story involving Gwen when she was still a new member. She was the newest addition to the team and was, from what Spencer could gather, Torchwood's personal connection with the Cardiff police, having been a former officer herself. Toshiko, of course, was the technical expert, Owen was the medical doctor, and Ianto appeared to be an administrative assistant.

"You all seem very close," Spencer acknowledged. "Torchwood Cardiff, the worst kept secret in town."

The Captain froze, only to relax a second later and meet Spencer's calm smile. "I suppose Tosh told you all about Torchwood," he said.

"Only the bare necessities," assured Spencer. "I find Samuel Butler's words to be apropos in this juncture: he says 'Look before you leap for as you sow, ye are like to reap.'"

"Wise words there, Spencer," the Captain said. He took a bite of his donut and sipped his now cool coffee, only to choke and grimace exaggeratedly. "This is a dreadful excuse for a coffee! If Ianto were here, he would throw this _muck_ out the window and insist on making a new batch himself."

At the back of his mind, Spencer couldn't help but picture a Welshman manhandling the BAU's coffee maker and throwing it out of the nearest window. The scene was pure conjecture but oddly enough, Spencer enjoyed the frivolity of the thought. "Ianto sounds like quite a character," he commented.

"He makes the best coffee I have ever had the fortune to taste in my lifetime," the Captain gushed. "He'd smack me a new one if he ever hears me say this, but he's the fuel that keeps Torchwood running. His coffee can send you to Nirvana, I assure you. He stays mostly in the Hub doing all the office work," the Captain frowned, "but he's capable enough in the field. I should really take him out more."

Eyebrows rising at the Captain's choice of words, Spencer teased, "You mean out on missions."

The Captain grinned. "Of course, what else could I mean by that?"

"It's been nine years but I still know you, Captain. Your own name is a pick up line."

What followed was a playful banter reminiscent of the ones their friendship had been based on. Spencer found that there was something enchanting about conversing with a dear friend with whom he never had to hide his true self from, a friend who accepted his idiosyncrasies and was not cowed by his abnormally large IQ. Spencer tried not to become too nostalgic about it, and instead focused on the impromptu lecture on Abraham Maslow and his psychological theories.

An hour later, when the Captain received a call from the Torchwood hub and Spencer was once again left alone at his desk, he thought that perhaps the Captain felt the same way he did. Spencer was not blind; he saw the change in the Captain's demeanour the moment the device on his wrist beeped and he rushed to the conference room to video conference with Toshiko. With Torchwood he was a leader, but with Spencer he was himself – or as much as himself that the Captain wanted to reveal to Spencer. It was one of the conclusions Spencer had of the man that brought comfort instead of trepidation.

"I've never seen you like this before."

Spencer was rustled from his musings, which can be somewhat disconcerting given how deep in his contemplation he seemed to be. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I don't believe my behaviour has been a deviation from the usual."

"Reid," Prentiss admonished good-heartedly, "don't think I didn't see you lock lips with Jack back in the break room. I may not have been in the BAU long, but I know what I saw and what I saw was not how my colleague Dr Reid behaves."

"Prentiss, I –" There was no stopping the bright red blush on Spencer's face.

"Oh, relax," laughed Prentiss. "I'm sure I was the only one who saw, though I don't doubt that if Garcia gets a wind of this, she will hack into the security cameras."

Spencer's eyes widened._Garcia_. How could he forget? "Prentiss," he tried to speak, but the woman ploughed on with what she had to say.

"Look, I'm not saying your recent conduct a bad thing," she said. "I'm just telling how it is. So what if you're acting a little different today, yeah?"

"I _am_ acting like myself," Spencer insisted. He met Prentiss's gaze, only to look away again. His eyes landed on the Captain, half hidden by the conference room blinds and still very much deep in a transatlantic conversation. All at once, his worries about Garcia and security cameras and the infamous FBI rumour mill disappeared from his mind. "I'm worried about him," he confessed quietly. "When you look at the Captain, what do you see?"

Prentiss sent Spencer a confused glance. "I thought we weren't allowed to profile each other," she questioned. "Jack may not be part of the team but we've worked on his consult case. And, he's your friend."

"Which is why I need a second opinion," reasoned Spencer. "I find I can be biased in my interpretations, and there might be something I missed due to my preconceptions about him. A fresh set of eyes might be beneficial to me."

Silence met Spencer's words, and he watched closely as Prentiss mentally went through the pros and cons of psychoanalyzing the man ballsy enough to wear a World War Two greatcoat in modern day America.

"He's an alpha male," Prentiss said eventually. "The way he acted in the conference room earlier today tells us that he's used to being in charge, but knows also when to back down. He's confident, smart – he adapted easily to our methods even though it's painfully clear he's an action-oriented man. Flying all the way down here just to ask for our help must have killed him, or at the very least knocked his ego down a peg or two. You call him 'Captain', which mans he has military experience. He's seen the worst humanity has to offer yet he still retains a love of life that is very... captivating. He flirted with you in front of everyone, Reid," she nudged the man in question lightly on the shoulder, "which means he's very open with his sexuality. He dresses outlandishly perhaps to hide a part of himself, and it might even indicate that he's torn between at least two contrasting thing: who wears a suspender and a belt at the same time? It's like he's lost searching for a part of himself and – this is mostly conjecture, Reid – he's looking in the wrong direction."

Spencer listened attentively to his fellow profiler's analysis of his friend, nodding every now and then when he felt Prentiss has really hit the hammer home. He laughed outright when she described the Captain's sexuality as "very open." That was certainly one way to label his omnisexual tendencies.

"You know him far better than I do," Prentiss pointed out. "Aside for my last statement, how accurate was I?"

"Quite accurate, actually," Spencer admitted. "The Captain does lead his own team back in Cardiff, and he used to serve in the military. I think his greatcoat is as big a part of his personality as his charm is, though I think he hides behind it just as much as he uses it to gain attention and control the situation. As for him being lost, looking for something in the wrong direction… it seems more likely to me that he's waiting for something. I've never really noticed before, but he seems to have been waiting for a very long time."

Prentiss accepted Spencer's additional comments and returned to her own desk. It looked like Spencer needed some time alone, and she was more than willing to give the young man some space.

* * *

A/N: Again, this is an unbeta'd chapter. Forgive any mistakes, and I hope you enjoyed reading.


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